


Wings and Things

by IsleofSolitude



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley loves Aziraphale, Episode: s01e03 Hard Times, Hand Jobs, M/M, Scene: Kingdom of Wessex 537 AD (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24329869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsleofSolitude/pseuds/IsleofSolitude
Summary: After their damp meeting in Wessex, Crowley the black knight goes to Aziraphale's tent to talk some more.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 102
Collections: Good Omens - Hard Times - Sweet & Shaymazing Cut





	Wings and Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shay_Moonsilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shay_Moonsilk/gifts).



> This is for Shay, my amazingly talented and beautiful friend. Congrats girl!!
> 
> Thanks to Pyra for beta reading!

Really, for a knight of the Round Table, Aziraphale’s camp was rather…..pathetic.

There were only a few humans around doing their various tasks--firetending, animal tending, mending and polishing. Bedrolls were spread around the fire, but the demon ignored them as he strolled casually to his destination--the one of the two tents that had been erected. 

Smirking, he pushed past the flimsy fabric--and the smirk immediately turned dry.

“Well, well, well…”

Aziraphale jumped, turning to face him, showing a blush that extended down to his navel.

“Crowley! I...What…”

Nudity was not something that angel or demon had ever had an issue with. It was hardly worth it to get embarrassed about a moldable corporation when with just a simple change of perspective true forms could be easily known. 

Wings, on the other hand, now that was something that had slowly become more private in the lifetimes they had known each other. In fact, Crowley hadn’t seen Aziraphale’s since the wall and the rain. 

It really was a sight--armour bruised flesh on display in all it’s soft and sweaty glory (minus the unfortunate small clothes ruining the picture). White wings gloriously mussed and glowing in the dimly lit room. Blue eyes wide and curls frizzy. Those lips opened in surprise.

“I thought you were a bit more prissy than usual.” Crowley prowled around him, poking at a feather. “You’re molting again.”

Aziraphale batted his hand away. “Don’t  _ do _ that!” The red was fading, what a pity. Idly, he wondered how to get it back. Aziraphale gave up on following him in the circle and just huffed. “Are you quite done?”

Crowley eyed his feathers again. They looked so soft, even if scruffy and clumped. He eyed Aziraphale’s nape and shoulders and hips. Would they feel the same if he sank his fingers into them? How would they feel on his face, his mouth?

“Thought our little chat was too short, figured now that business is out of the way we can catch up.” But now...a different idea had taken root.

Aziraphale wrung his hands. “Oh, I don’t know Crowley.”

Decision made, the lanky redhead sat comfortably on the bedroll. He patted the space between his legs. “Come here.”

Oooh, the red was back. “Wh---What?”

“I’m gonna take care of your wings. Unless you want to extend your suffering?” Aziraphale didn’t answer, just stared at him. “I mean, needless suffering, that does sound like your lot but I know you personally detest it so…” He patted the ground again, made a show of clearing it off. “Come here.”

Aziraphale swallowed deeply, and to Crowley’s deep delight, took a step towards him. Then another, until he was standing right in front of him. Crowley gave him a lazy smile and scooted back a little. The angel took a few seconds to sink down and get settled, and then ruffled his feathers one last time. “I’m not sure about this Crowley…”

“Then I’m sure enough for the both of us.” He let his fingers hover above the right wing. “You ready?”

Time seemed to stop as Aziraphale inhaled. Then, he gave the softest “yes”. 

There was no one to see Crowley’s eyes flare, his throat bob, or his hands shake as he lowered them into that mass of perfection. 

Maybe they moaned in unison, Crowley wasn’t sure, but the sound that left his throat was guttural and loud. Words couldn’t describe what the feathers felt like against his fingertips. He swallowed again as he began sorting the loose from the new. His sharp nails knew better than to do anything than scratch the itch Aziraphale had to be feeling. His efforts were rewarded; Aziraphale’s shoulders kept lowering with each pass, the wings fluttering softly as he relaxed. Crowley flexed against the coverts. Licking his lips, he lost himself in the sensation of preening.

One side was done and the other had been started when Crowley registered the hitches coming from Aziraphale, the slightest wiggle and shifts. 

“Stay still.” He felt like growling for being taken out of his mindless meditation. 

“Ah...Sorry.” Aziraphale didn’t sound sorry so much as breathless.

_ Interesting _ . “You need some more pillows?” He traced a long finger over the arch of the wing. “Some wine, perhaps?”

“Don’t tease, Crowley. Surely you remember the ah, sensations that can come with this.”

Crowley couldn’t see his face, but he could feel a grin splitting across it. “Oh? Can’t say that I do.” He hooked his legs over Aziraphale’s and pulled them even further apart. “Something to do with…..pleasure, right?”

“Crowley!” Despite his protest, Aziraphale didn’t pull away.

Heart in his chest, Crowley leaned forward, letting his chin rest on one broad shoulder. Sure enough, the angel sported his own little tent between his legs. “Ah, right, that sensation.”

Aziraphale turned his head just enough to pout at him. “You are a beast.”

“Only a beast if I don’t lend a hand, angel.”

Wine warm breath washed over his face. “.....You would do that?”

“Course. Already here, yeah? Finish up this wing and then I can easily handle that. If you want.” Aziraphale looked like he was going to say, so Crowley made his case. “No catch. Catch free. Just...a different type of helping you out.”

He lost count of how many heartbeats passed before Aziraphale closed his eyes and settled closer to him. “Alright.”

Having his legs hooked over Aziraphale’s strong calves, having his thighs cradling Aziraphale’s hips so much closer, having the promise of seeing if that blush goes all the way down to hide in a different forest of soft curls was enough to distract even the most studious demon. Crowley sped up his work on the wing, though he was careful to smooth every wing with care.

When the last old feather had been plucked and the last inch had been scratched, he wrapped his arms around that luscious belly and laid his forehead between those wings, pressing a kiss to the steel spine buried under all those layers. “Still yes?”

Pudgy fingers smoothed over his. “Yes…” A very definite wiggle against Crowley’s own effort reinforced his answer, and Crowley helplessly pressed another kiss to wherever he could reach. Straightening up, he pressed closer, neck draping over shoulder again so he could see as his fingers drifted down and shifted the fabric aside.

_ Oh.  _ Oh, that was...lovely. Perfectly Aziraphale. He ran his fingers down the creases of the hips, feeling out the hair and skin, punching a groan out of Aziraphale. His lips found the angel’s neck and he mouthed at it for a moment, then couldn’t resist any longer.

Delicate fingers closed around the girth of it, and Aziraphale sighed, laying his head back against Crowley's shoulder. He kept his pace slow, not wanting this to end. Every once in awhile he would swipe his thumb over the tip, smearing that lovely liquid around. 

Aziraphale came with a joyous cry, spreading his wings and causing feathers to fall all around them. Crowley couldn’t tear his face away from that countenance, hand not stopping until every last drop was shared. 

The demon pulled his hand towards himself and licked it clean, then manhandled the blissed out Angel to turn around in his lap and bent down. The taste was easily the best thing he’d ever licked, and he went at it with aplomb, until Aziraphale was crying out again, legs shaking with the effort of staying still. Crowley rested there on that stout thigh until the breathing slowed, and then he sat up.

He stretched as he made eye contact. “Satisfactory? Wings and things?”

Aziraphale stared at him, then blinked and looked around. “Actually, no, I believe you could have done better.”

“Wh--What!? Angel that was definitely...you enjoyed it!” Crowley could feel his mouth hanging open.

The prissy bastard climbed into Crowley’s lap and wiggled delightedly against him. “It appears that my wings are a mess again, and I think you should help with them since it’s your fault.”

Crowley’s hands sank into plush hips. He let his own bony ones roll up. “Oh, well, I see. Guess I have no choice but to do better then.”

Aziraphale’s reply was lost to a very eager mouth meeting his. 


End file.
